some boys just don't leave,
they stay with you, they live
in your head,
like in your flat,
making you feel for no reason bad.
they make you stumble,
lying on your floor,
in front of your door,
so sore,
that one day you decide: no more
I'll tell him to get away from my house
but you look at him:
foolish naive face,
dishevelled hair, crumpled shirt,
childish mouth.
and think:
"well, let it be tomorrow.
I'll tell him
tomorrow."
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по мотивам одноименного видео.